Twilit Days
by Kinda-Mayvelle
Summary: Collection of oneshots. There was always something more going on behind the tales of the Hero. MidnaLink centric, with few other characterbased chapters.
1. Wrong

**Twilit Days **

_A Zelda: Twilight Princess collection_

_Disclaimer: I don't own TP (except a copy of it), and I don't own Zelda._

**Chapter One: Wrong**

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The skies were crying.

They were smudged a charcoal black, the raindrop tears reflecting a dull gray. The earth had absorbed and held up the moisture, and by now all of Hyrule had no doubt been reduced to a spongy, damp swamp.

The residents of Castle Town suffered from the same conditions; crowded underneath the arcing eaves along the street. Those that weren't fortunate enough to cram themselves beneath shelter held cloaks, tunics, anything to keep the rain off them. The normally bustling town had been reduced to this; where usually citizens would stop to at least greet each other, they now passed each other by, too busy with their own business to worry about the etiquette they'd been raised on.

Zelda watched this through the high window of her chamber; eyes downcast to rest on the half-finished construction beginning in the courtyard, and that she knew spiraled all the way to the throne room. The workers had abandoned it for the day, given leave to hide in the stables until the downpour had passed.

The weather and state of affairs mirrored her mood and frame of mind. It had been less than a week since Hyrule's ordeal had passed; a week since things had returned to relative normal.

A week since Midna departed. A week since Link returned to his village. A week since she had seen the love of her life.

If you were to ask any number of her subjects about the topic in question no doubt most would chorus the same opinion, the same much-believed 'fact': the Princess and the Hero were in love, that they were destined to marry within the year. It varied from person to person, and even in the short time since the final confrontation on the plains the rumors had managed to reach her ears.

She sighed, her eyes shifting ever so slightly from one bunk of wooden pillars to another. Perhaps the only members of her kingdom who believed differently were the Ordonians; subjects convinced of his feelings towards a farm girl Zelda knew nothing about, but was said to be a close friend.

Zelda knew differently. She knew differently than all her subjects, all the members of her country, from the Zoras to the Gorons to the Hylians themselves, far and wide.

Link loved. But it wasn't known who.

And this was deeply disturbing. Throughout the history, the legend and mythos of Hyrule surrounding the Triforce there resonated a legend just as strong and just as dearly believed in. There would always be three wielders of the pieces: Power, Wisdom and Courage. One would forever be the great evil; the other the princess; the last the hero. And it was as dearly believed that the princess and hero were fated to forever love each other, brought together time and again by destiny only to be parted.

The Hero of Time was held to love his princess; though the records of history she kept stored away in her personal library gave introspection that might prove this idea false, they might not. There was a footnote by her ancestor that the Hero of the time had been very fond of his own farm girl, though it gave no definite evidence that such feelings existed. It was probably the cause of the 'destiny' complex held by the masses.

She couldn't help but draw parallels with this, her inherent wisdom batting against the human need to find something that could wreak sense into the situation. The Hero of Time apparently had two princesses and a farm girl battling for his attention; though it was implied he was unaware of it.

It sounded eerily familiar. Two princesses, one farm girl; except most accepted the ideology that he had loved his princess, the one to which he owed his allegiance, and accepted no other conviction.

The princess brought a crisply gloved hand to her face. Her fingers gently touched her lips in saddened contemplation; a realization that she had achieved seven days and six nights ago flowing into her mind as if a river carried it through the whirlpool of her hopes and thoughts.

"Link loves his princess…

…He loves the wrong one."

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**A/N: Short little ditty to start the one-shot collection. It's Midna/Link based, and though I was going to start with something different, this one has been demanding my attention for some time. One-sided Zelda…and if you can figure out the real meaning behind the last two lines, uber Kudos to you.**


	2. Boarwalk

**Twilit Days**

_A Zelda: Twilight Princess collection_

_Disclaimer: I don't own TP (except a copy of it), and I don't own Zelda._

**Chapter Two: Boar-walk**

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"I don't think this is a good idea."

"Oh, come on Midna, where's your sense of _adventure_?"

Midna felt her hackles rise at the irritatingly charming grin Link was giving her; not at all dissuaded from his plan despite the fact it was _utterly insane_.

"You," Midna emphasized with a sharp poke of her finger in his direction, "are going to ride _that_?"

'_That_' turned out to be the largest boar Midna had ever seen. It was well over a foot taller than Link himself was, and easily closing in on four times as wide, twice as long. It snorted at her in the heavy desert heat, beady, shifting little red eyes narrowing and widening upon her floating form.

She regarded it neutrally where it stood placidly beside Link, the elf in question stroking the God-ugly _thing_ on the side as if it were a cute little pet; despite the tusks growing up from under its lips that were as thick as he was, or the razor-sharp hooves that pawed nervously at the sand, kicking it up in waves.

"Of course," Link went on, that annoyingly charming grin of his growing more and more innocent, his eyes beaming more brightly at the thought of it. He continued his stroking, careful not to rub its short hair the wrong way. "I'm sure the big guy won't mind. Would you?" He added sweetly, smiling at the boar as he rubbed it behind the ear.

Midna curled her nose in disgust; catching faint whiffs of the creature's foul stench from even this far away. She didn't know how he could stand it…But then again Link reeked just as much as the boar did, having sweated through fur during their trek into the Desert, as he had been unwilling to put his steed through the heat. The sweat dyed his hair a darker color, plastering it to his forehead. He had long since taken off his hat, and his unruly hair, though sticky and dampened down with sweat, stuck up at odd angles from the static of the hat. He had killed the boar's original rider, a moblin, and its blood was still smeared across his chest and up his arms. It did nothing but add to the overall odor.

Midna waved a dainty black and green hand before her button nose, her eyes narrowing in response to both the smell and the sun.

"Twilight, you stink as much as that thing does." She eyed it up and down: noting its nervous disposition and the very sharp, very long, very thick tusks that curved out and over its head. She gulped just at the sight of it, and couldn't help but think her wolf suicidal. "That thing would kill you. Look at those things!"

She pointed at the tusks in question but Link simply waved her off; that innocent and fun-loving smile of his beaming out at her, undaunted.

"He's harmless, I swear. Come on, just come over and pet him, you'll see. He's as gentle as a lamb."

Midna eyes the beast dubiously, ill inclined to approach for several rather obvious reasons. Not only that, but the fact that Link referred to the thing as male put her off slightly. She wondered how he knew, but that would inevitably bring around more information than she'd prefer hearing.

She declined the…invitation and instead floated further away, making sure to put as much distance as she could between her and the suicidal idiot she had the great misfortune of traveling with. Even if he was a charming idiot…

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Link watched her float off with a disappointed frown but shrugged it off. He pulled himself high off the ground: as far as his lanky, farm-strengthened arms could haul his weight, and he just barely managed to catch his toes into the saddle's stirrups. He pulled himself all the way onto the worn, hard leather, kicking his foot into the stirrup on the other side of the boar. He had to stretch a bit to make it but he managed, and with a childish, giddy glee he took up the reins. Link gently tugged on the thin oiled leather, guiding his mount to face the tall outposts stationed thickly around the area. He had already cleared out all the moblins, so there wouldn't be any danger of riding through there. Besides, it was a far more preferable method of travel than running through the desert on blistered paws. 

He turned as much as his stretched lower frame would allow, and shouted once more through the crook of his hand at Midna, twenty meters away.

"Are you sure you don't want to go for a ride?"

However small she might have been, and however far away she was the violent shaking of her head was perfectly clear to him. His face fell, but he turned back to the task at hand, determined to stay enthusiastic despite Midna's dampening nature.

He licked his lips and tightened his grips on the reins. He would start slow: no good running the poor guy through his paces in the hot desert sun, with a strange rider. He gently nudged the beast in the sides with the heels of his boots; feeling this would be enough to get the boar going in a slow trot.

No such luck. The beast reared suddenly, a keeling, distinctly pig-like squeal cutting through the air to shake Link's ears. He scrambled for a tighter grip on the reins as the beast went vertical, the ground rushing up to meet him in a dizzying burst of vertigo. His eyes widened, thinking something might be wrong; he might have nudged too hard, and the boar was trying to buck him off—

The beast's hooves came crashing into the sand with a sickening lurch forward, tossing its head and charging up for a run. Link hardly had enough time to yank his own body against the powerful momentum, and he was forced to flatten against the saddle ten inches from the boar's tusks; gripping for dear life. He thought he heard a cry of surprise and concern from somewhere, but the elf was far too focused on staying on to pay attention to it.

The boar bounded forward, its immense bulk not slowing it at all, nor the sand making its footwork clumsy. It charged through the desert towards the moblin camp with a surprising amount of dexterity, and with impossible speed. The air cutting past them tore at Link's clothes and face, and he felt a sudden, strange surge of gratitude that he wasn't wearing his hat.

The camp was coming closer. Fifty feet, thirty feet—Link forced his face off the leather beneath him and pulled at the reins, digging his boots into the stirrups in a vain attempt to slow the boar down. When it showed no sign of slowing he pulled even harder on the reins, wrenching them to the right; to the left when the right didn't work, and the beast slowly, slowly started to turn.

Not quickly enough, though. Link was forced to press his face into the saddle once again as the boar crashed through the tall wooden outpost, wood chips and splinters flying by and scratching at his cheek, the exposed ends of his fingers…

The boar continued running even through the shock of impact, and Link clung onto its back with all his strength. It went on in a straight line; mad with some unknown frenzy. Breath billowed out like fog from between its lips; a heaving bumping Link up and down with its movements, its rapid heartbeat pounding against Link's feet.

It eventually began to calm; its frantic pace growing less and less, and when at last it had run out of energy it slid to a stop, breathing hard and crashing to its knees. Link took a few minutes to catch his own breath, eyes bug wide. His hands were cramped around the reins, and with a few moments of agonizing prying he pulled them free, slipping from the creature's back to collapse on the sand in shock.

He wallowed there for a few minutes, enjoying the steady earth beneath him when he felt, more than saw, Midna fly up beside him.

"_What the hell were you thinking_?" She hissed, clawed fingers shooting out and tugging harshly on his ear, eyes slit and fangs bore. "I told you that thing could—_would_—kill you, but you didn't listen! Gods!"

She gave his abused left ear one last cruel tug before collapsing on the sand beside him, heaving with the effort of restraining her anger. Or worry? Link couldn't tell at this point.

They lay there for a few moments, but eventually Link gathered enough energy to flip onto his side, facing her. He tried to summon up the gall to give her one of his charming smiles, but that attempt failed miserably. Instead he offered her an apologetic expression; hoping she wouldn't get too mad at him.

She was silent for a long time, but finally she spoke, eyes affixed firmly on the clear skies ahead; eyes narrowed to keep out the blinding sunlight.

"You're lucky," She said darkly, and Link shrunk back a bit, feeling dread at the thought of the rage that was sure to come. "That I'm not pissed off at you. Just…_Never_ ride one of those _things_ again. _Especially_ when I'm in your shadow."

Link offered her a tentative grin and, though sick of the light pouring into his eyes, didn't bother with moving from his spot on the sand, not at all bothered by the sand clotting his hair. "Promise."

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**A/N: Here's the second promised chapter to Twilit Days, this one Midna/Link centric. You can all thank my brother for this chapter. We were talking over lunch (or, more specifically I was yakking at him) about the end of 'Not So Obedient' and the potential for another story. I don't know how it was brought up, but somehow we got around to joking, laughing and acting out the potential scene where Link first rode one of the boars. Well…it spawned this. :P**

**Anyhow, I really do have a very, very, very, very, very, very, very vague idea for another TP story, but it's still in the early stages of the works, so it probably won't be seen for awhile.**

**Oh, and forgive the pun that is the title chapter. I thought it might be appropriate.**


	3. Twilight

Twilit Days 

_A Zelda: Twilight Princess collection_

_Disclaimer: I don't own TP (except a copy of it), and I don't own Zelda._

**Chapter Three: Twilight**

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'_A man after my own heart – A kindred spirit.'_

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"The sky's nice tonight."

Midna's eyelids flickered, a grunt echoing from the back of her thin throat. She shifted restlessly where she lay on her side to her back, her small hands tucked behind her head. Her helmet rested on the soft earth beside her.

"…Midna?"

She grunted again, this one an affirmative that, yes, she was listening. With her eyes closed as they were she couldn't see Link's expression, but she'd place twenty Rupees on the idea that he was frowning at her—dismissing the fact that she'd be betting _his_ Rupees, not her's.

"Yes, yes, lovely," She sighed, pulling her hand from beneath her head to wave dismissively at the stars. "May I sleep?"

He hummed, a bit disappointed, and she resettled herself on the grass and blankets that were her bed for the night. The camp grew quiet, only the chirping orchestra of crickets somewhere out in the tall grass along Hyrule Field, the stomping and rustling of Epona from where she was hobbled a few feet away and the buzz of some night creature in the distance breaking the spell of the silence. Somewhere a bird took flight, and the shivering of leaves put into motion scraped across the cool air.

"It's not as nice as twilight, though," she heard from somewhere to her near left, a soft sigh of a remark; most likely not meant for her to hear.

Midna's eyes cracked open, blinking at the twinkling starlight beating on her irises. She flipped again, onto her side to face Link. The farm boy turned Hero lay as she had a moment before, gloved hands tucked below his blonde head as his eyes lazily scanned the heavens. His hat lay on his chest, lightly moving up and down with his breath. His shield and the Master Sword rested beside him, close at hand.

Midna cocked her head at him, feeling absurdly light without the helmet bowing it down.

"That's the last thing I expected to hear from you," she said after a moment of consideration. She shifted onto her stomach, using her hands to prop her face above the earth. Her tiny feet kicked reflexively at the air. "I'd have thought you hated it."

Link's face grew bemused, his eyebrows drawing together to furrow his forehead. His lips pursed.

"Hate it? I don't hate it. More like…I'm upset with it. I've always loved the twilight, the best part of the day…" He shook his head, his hair brushing roughly against the grass under it. "Never mind, you probably think it's silly."

Midna watched him for a few minutes, head tilted. Her long lock of red-gold hair swung over her shoulder, and she spared a hand to swipe it back absently, if not a bit irritably at its intrusion on her thoughts. She briefly mused on putting her helmet on to keep the lock in place.

"Not at all. In fact, if I didn't know any better I'd think I'm influencing you."

Link grinned up at the stars, but she had a feeling it was meant for her. "Yeah, you're a bad influence."

Midna pulled some grass from the earth and chucked the handful of it at him, growing agitated when he laughed at the pathetic comeback.

"No, I've always liked twilight. I used to sit along the edge of the spring with my father when he was still alive, and we'd talk about how the day went, and what we'd do tomorrow, and of the times he promised to take me to see Hyrule one day."

He grew somber, eyebrows relaxing as his eyes resumed their scrutiny of the skies. Midna folded her arms and rested her head atop them, now keener on watching him than sleeping, or looking at the stars.

_A man after my own heart._

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**A/N: Bah, couldn't help it. I've been looking through a list of phrases and sayings, and I have 3 ½ pages of sayings I can use for this story, and what I'd use them to portray. I had difficulty deciding which I was going to use first, but I just picked this one and went with it.**

**Note—don't expect these chapters to be long. They're just short snippets into the life of Link and Midna, at various stages of the game. This snippet is from somewhere along the way to find the statues to restore the power of the Dominion Rod—I'm too lazy to decide exactly when and where.**

**The good thing is, since there's less to write in one chapter it won't take me as long to write the next one. I'm working on my main story, though, and I've hit a bit of a snag with it, so until I figure out how to overcome it I'll be working on TD. Aren't ya happy:P**


	4. Beautiful

**Twilit Days**

_A Zelda: Twilight Princess collection_

_Disclaimer: I don't own TP (except a copy of it), and I don't own Zelda._

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**Chapter Four: Beautiful**

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'_The die has been cast – An irrevocable choice has been made.'_

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_She was so beautiful._

_  
Crouched before him, Zelda held softly to one of Midna's hands, a small, serene smile gracing her face. Midna ascended through the air above them, gently borne upon a billow of wind, her eye wide with a nebulous fear that sluiced at Link's untamed, wolfish heart. Any resentment, any dislike—not hate, never hate—he might have drizzled upon the imp before had shriveled up and died in his chest in the rain, hard droplets driving, bruising against his furry flanks merely hours before. She had been dying, then; she was dying now._

_Had been dying. Whatever it was the princess was doing now drove the death knell clanging in her ears and eyes from her, resonating through the room and his quivering frame. Even as Midna was carried up, up, with nothing to support her limited freefall to the ground her hand slipped from the princess'; eyes wide and mouth slashed in a gape, a demand for him to stop her dancing silver fire across her tongue. The strain of pushing, pushing against the Light flowing through her veins, weaving a shield, to shove it back forcibly into Zelda's body._

_Link didn't move. Perhaps it was because he couldn't move; arrested he stood, eyes locked firmly on Midna's. Even as, in the corner of his gaze, he saw and felt wavering Light magic crackling across his skin; her disappearing into nothingness beyond nothing. He had to stand firm. Indecision had always been the fall of him, the bruise and the scrape of failure. He could not fail now; would not. He had promised. He was chained by that promise; and even the loss of his princess, the ruler of his country—by however bare a mark and thread—could not mire him in double-guessing and self-doubt. Perhaps he should have felt more when she simply vanished, but nothing crossed his mind except relief that Midna was all right. A seething unease settled in the very deepest depths of his belly. He ignored it, or simply didn't acknowledge it._

_Midna floated down stolidly to join him, feet hardly brushing the floor. Her head down, weighed upon heavily by the ancient crown cresting atop her fire-blaze hair, she only briefly managed to meet his gaze._

"_Let's go, Link."_

_He had never thought about her appearance before, the image pasted across his eyelids whenever he thought of her. Ideally she wasn't a beauty; her malformed, impish features prevented her from being called anything even approaching plain, but at that moment, when the light had faded and she regarded him with as bare an expression as he had ever seen grace her face, a small part of his mind took a path of its own. She was so beautiful._

'The die has been cast.'

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**A/N: I don't really have any idea where ****this**** came from. I was re-reading a really sad story, true, but that doesn't explain how this sprouted and took root. Much less that I didn't mind writing it. I'm not good at romance on any level, and I'm mildly uncomfortable with this one. Still, I felt I should post it, if only because so many of my TP readers would like to see them go beyond close friendship in my works. I would do so more often, but this is about as fluffy as my abilities reach. Like I said, it makes me mildly uncomfortable, so really, don't expect a lot of fluff in the future. I think I've about worn out my store.**


	5. Dead

**Twilit Days**

_A Zelda: Twilight Princess collection_

_Disclaimer: I don't own TP (except a copy of it), and I don't own Zelda._

**Chapter Five: Dead**

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'_Absent without leave – Absent without permission._'

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_Midna was dead._

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The soft whispers of silk against skin were the only noises throughout the whole room. Despite the many people around the room, formal robes glittering with thread-of-gold in the candlelight, it was utterly silent. It shook the vaulted chamber with its loudness.

"Allow me to be the first to formally welcome you home, Princess."

"…"

"I am sure we are all eager to know what kept Her Majesty from us for so long. Would you deign to relieve our minds, Princess?"

Silence still clogged her throat, her chest heaved against the constraints of her garb. The fire-red locks bonded upon her collarbone shook with her rattling breaths.

The slimy, almost imperceptible grin on the Chief Counselor's visage was conniving at best; though to all else it would be the picture of aggrieved concern. She wasn't fooled.

"My Princess, there is much for us to discuss, and not much time to do so." Someone else, now: the third cousin of the Counselor, a Noble of a smaller House, but still powerful enough to tip the tide in his favor—against her's.

Muttering spread through the assembled Council at her continued muteness, and the Chief frowned fiercely under his accommodating smile. Thread-of-gold more prominent in his ceremonial robes than in all others save her's, the bells dangling at the fringe of his cuffs jingled as he brought his long, spidery hands before him in the appearance of appeasement. His narrowed, angular eyes—Twilight, she couldn't look at him without thinking of that bastard usurper Zant—found hers and remained there, unwavering. Was she the only one who could see his insolence?

"Princess, you have been gone near a year. We must know what occurred to tear you from us. It is against our laws for the ruler to vanish on her own without ample warning."

As suddenly as the subservience was there it was gone in a flash. The Chief drew himself up with icy dignity, the splendor of his garments carrying more weight than his words with the Council. "If we are not presented with enough evidence of Her Majesty's innocence then we have no choice but to ask she step down."

"Come now," She said finally, her patience, already short, nearing its end. She could ignore everything else, but not the threat to evict her from her own realm, her own kingdom. What she had gone through to save these people—! "Surely my disappearance doesn't allot enough ground to see to what you are suggesting, Holok."

Holok sneered openly now, a gleam of satisfaction in his eyes. She didn't understand. She had said nothing incriminating, and had, in fact, pointed out the flaw in his plan. Her skin suddenly, inexplicably crawled.

"Under the law written and approved under King Derolnos and the High Council five hundred seventy-three years after the Exile, all members of the ruling family are confined to the Royal Grounds and Palace without an escort of thirty-three or more of the Guards. A sudden disappearance made on the part of any member of the ruling family for a period longer than a month under stressed circumstances is automatically convicted of abandonment of state, position, heredity, and equal treatment under the law."

He grinned as he finished, fangs flashing in the glow of the candles floating around the chamber. He hadn't even needed to look at the heavy, leather-bound volume on the dais two feet to his right. She wouldn't put it past him to have memorized the entire thing.

"I had reasons," She countered coldly, refusing to sit up fully. She would not allow him to see her nervousness, her uncertainty. Such a thing would be as a death knell to her credibility before the Council.

The muttering grew louder, and more of the Council sitters were looking directly at her now, measuring and dissecting with their gazes. How ever had she managed to deal with them before she had been forced to leave? She had little more patience now than she had then.

"Reasons, Princess? If you are referring to the minor issue with the court jester, then allow me to reassure you, that was held under perfect control. He posed no threat." His grin was no longer a grin, but a bearing of teeth in a vague form of challenge.

She, for her part, goggled at him in disbelief before catching herself. _No threat_? The only thing more threatening had been Ganondorf himself. "Surely you cannot be serious. He managed to usurp me and seize control of the kingdom before he could be stopped."

She realized the stupidity of what she had said moments after she said it, but it could not be retracted now. Triumph was as a shadow in Holok's eyes.

"Ah, yes, that is right, isn't it? Our dear Princess overpowered by her court jester, and her authority taken from her before a _Light-dweller_ could save her. And then, she vanished for twelve months without a word of where she was or what she was doing to see the _court jester_ taken into custody."

Her temper flared, and before she could blink found herself on her feet. Despite her towering height Holok would have overtopped her if it weren't for the dais her throne sat upon. "And where were you? Where were you all, when our world was threatened? You sat back and twiddled your thumbs, did you not, waiting for me to come back and _save your sorry asses instead of saving yourself_!"

Maybe she had thought that would pull some onto her side, but most simply viewed her with disgusted and affronted expressions. Holok's hadn't changed. "Where were you?" She demanded again, attempting calm.

"It is not the responsibility of the Council to see to the protection of one ruler from another," Holok said. "The business of House rivalry is none of ours. We simply see to the order of the realm while Her Majesty sees to more important matters."

_More important matters my right foot,_ She thought bitterly. There was more rivalry between members of the Council than there was between the participants of the most ugly Blood Feud in the Twilight!

She hadn't realized it, deep in her thoughts as she was, when four Guards shadowed her from behind. Holok's grin grew sickly sweet.

"Until such reasons are given, I am afraid we must take Her Majesty into custody, for her own safety. Rebellions can be all too common when the people are slighted by their Princess."

She snarled as they seized her arms, and would have struck back if she didn't feel the bonds sliding between her and her magic, constricting her wrists in blazing, sizzling yellow bracers behind her back. She bared her teeth at Holok.

"This is madness. Madness! What authority is yours to do this?!"

"Why, Princess," He said simply, "None."

"Then why?"

"The people demand it."

She was stunned. They took her away, through a side door reserved for servants. It was terribly cramped, but not as cramped as the cell they threw her into; bonds still in place upon her person. She could have wept nails sooner than reach the magic shielded from her.

She was furious. She was maddeningly enraged. But more than that, more than both sensations together she was afraid, terrified. There was never a ruler who was taken into custody who was given a light sentence. Never.

And as she lay there, seething, frothing over how to possibly exact vengeance on the fools who dared do this to her, a sickening revelation struck her.

Midna was dead. The arrogant but strong-willed woman she had been at the end of her venture into the Light had vanished somewhere between her return to the Twilight and being thrown into this cell; no amount of planning would allow her the chance to do as she wished. The bonds would hold. But worse than that, than all those realizations was another.

She had grown dependent. She had grown dependent upon the accursed farm boy, the Hero, her Hero, her wolf; the woman named Midna was dead. Gone. And in her place, in a dark cell in the depths of the Twilight Palace was a fallen Princess as helpless as those in all those damned fairytales, awaiting her Hero to free her from her captivity.

'_Absent without leave._'

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**A/N: There. Another update so quickly? Aw, well, I wanted to write this. Not much to say, other than enjoy it. And if you catch the doube meaning behind "Absent without leave" then Kudos to you.**


	6. Master

**Twilit Days**

_A Zelda: Twilight Princess collection_

_Disclaimer: I don't own TP (except a copy of it), and I don't own Zelda._

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**Chapter Six: Master**

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It is all a lie.

This he knows. And how could he not know, for he lives through the trials meant for greater men, of legends come alive, of the dead and the dying, heroes faded to dust and ashes in the remnants of history?

It is all a lie, all of it. There was never a Chosen. There was never a threat, never a hero, never a quest, never a fate, never a destiny. He has been swindled into doing the dirty work of royalty, a fate many find themselves suffering from over the years.

There was never a choice: never a chance. He is dead to her, and she to him, and the strings of all being pulled by the delicate, soft and deft fingers of his princess, his Queen, his tormentor; his murderer.

He loves her; he despises her. He curses her name; he whispers it softly in his most grief-stricken moments. He is dead to her, and she to him, but the scars of memory fresh upon his mind breathe life into half-forgotten nightmares, clawing up from graves to rend and tear at the fragile sanity she leaves him with.

There was never a choice: never a chance.

She defiled him, hated him, loved him, raped him mad, but ultimately broke him.

And now she is gone, dead herself, and for all she destroyed him he mourns her passing, weeping blood from gashes he inflicts himself: his eyes, his nose, his ears, his heart; all are imprinted with her, and she will never leave him.

It is all a lie.

She is dead now, and he with her. All that is left is the nebulous beast within, howling and frothing, lunacy burning him to howl at the stars in the dead of morning, and howl again when he cannot reach them. To dig when there is nothing to find, to writhe and to die, and when day breaks, to live; and when night comes once more, to die again. There is nothing left.

She is dead now. She was his Mistress, and she has now gone to the grave. But he will get her back. She never left him.

There was never a chance; now there is.

His Mistress is gone, but he will get her back; she is gone, and death his new Master.

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**A/N: (Looks at above paragraphs) Wow, I was in a sick mood. But I love it. :)**

**Also, for all my readers who like Link/Midna, I've posted a new fic. It'll be awhile before the plot really starts to pick up, but it's there.**

**Can **_**you**_** puzzle out who 'he' is referencing to in this?**


	7. Market

**Twilit Days**

_A Zelda: Twilight Princess collection_

_Disclaimer: I don't own TP (except a copy of it), and I don't own Zelda._

**Chapter Seven: Market**

* * *

'_Angry young man – anyone, particularly young men obviously, who rails against the establishment._'

* * *

This had to be the strangest day of her life.

Bess watched as the young fellow in green picked through the fruits displayed upon her stall, face scrunched in annoyance. She couldn't fathom why; no one had said a word to him beyond her initial greeting to a customer and the query on what he was looking for.

Nonetheless, he looked rather infuriated, and it irritated Bess. He was already holding up her business; housewives grumbled behind his back as he stalled, shifting the baskets slung over their arms as they stared heatedly at his back.

"Shut up," he mumbled under his breath, quite out of nowhere. Bess, her patience shorted by this outlandish stranger, glared at him.

"I would appreciate it if you wouldn't talk so to me in front of other customers, _sir_, especially when I have said nothing to you." The housewives behind his back grumbled louder; the heated stares increased ten-fold.

He jumped, as though he had forgotten where he was while staring at the apples before him. "I'm sorry," he said, looking rather contrite, "I wasn't talking to you."

She raised an eyebrow at him. "Then who were you talking to?"

He shrugged his shoulders uncomfortably before opening his mouth. Before another apology could come out, though, he grimaced and muttered again, much more fiercely this time, "Shut up!"

Bess grew red in the face. "_Young man_, I said nothing to you! Now, if you have no intention of buying anything, I suggest you move along! I have _other_ customers waiting."

He flushed and scratched the back of his head, stammering out apologies. He didn't move, though, and as he continued to mutter under his breath to his _shadow_ of all things ("Would you stop that? You're getting us in trouble--! _Be quiet--!_") Bess unobtrusively motioned for the nearest guard. She was beginning to suspect the boy wasn't quite right in the head. The guard approached, and the young man jumped again when the gauntlet fell upon his arm.

"I'll have to ask you to come with me, sir."

The color drained slightly from his face, and he tried to take a step back.

"I'm sorry, sir, I didn't mean to cause trouble—"

"_You look like a pig! Was your mother fat or did she just like farm animals?_"

Silence fell within the nearest six feet. The guard purpled in anger. His great girth, chain mail straining to cover him, shook with repressed fury. The boy's face, if possible, grew paler.

Bess regarded him with outrage and disgust. Really, what a thing to say to a guard!

She spoke, "You apologize right now and get away from my stall—" right on top of the guard's, "You're coming with me, brat—!"

The guard seized him by the arm, and as he began to tug the fellow in green away he shouted, "I didn't say anything, I swear, I'm sorry!" And then, barely audible even to her, being so close, "_Midna…!_"

The guard grumbled at him, and as they neared the edge of her sight, half disappearing among the crowd she heard the crow, "_You'll never take me alive!_"

There was a great jostling in the crowd, and the guard's enraged shout as the young man made a break for the nearest alley, all the while wailing that he hadn't said anything.

Bess shook her head as a housewife stepped up to examine her wares.

"What an angry young man."

**

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**A/N: Next chapter will be a brief continuation of this chapter.**


	8. Apple

**Twilit Days**

_A Zelda: Twilight Princess collection_

_Disclaimer: I don't own TP (except a copy of it), and I don't own Zelda._

**Chapter Eight: Apple**

* * *

'_Accidentally on purpose – Deliberately, but feigning accident._'

* * *

It wasn't until he was well beyond the gates of Castle Town did he receive the opportunity to stop his fleeing. Link, breathing heavily in panic and eyes wide darted for the nearest copse of trees, peering beyond the trunks to look at the city.

Good, none of the guards had followed him. At least he could stop and catch his breath, now. He tried to ignore the fact he probably wouldn't be able to go through that section of Castle Town again.

A high-pitched giggle issuing from the shadow at his feet sparked his irritation, and he turned to it.

"Nice going, Midna. Think you could have caused any more trouble?"

The shadow slid away from him and coalesced in the air before him in the shape of an imp. Midna gave him her trademark toothy grin.

"Yes, but I thought, 'oh, poor Link, wolfie can't take much more of this!' You should be glad I saved you back there."

Link stared at her incredulously, and was on the brink of reprimanding her ("What do you mean you _saved_ me?!") when he noticed what she was rolling between her hands. He goggled.

"Midna," He said slowly, eyes following the motions, "where did you get that apple?"

She giggled again. "Hehe, 'bout time you noticed, huh?" She took a great bite out of it, juice dripping down her chin. She crunched happily.

"Midna, that's stealing! Theft! Go return it right now!"

She rolled her eyes at his aghast and thunderstruck expression. "I can't very well return it when it's half gone already, now, can I?" As if to stress her point she took another chomp out of the red fruit, chewing with deliberate slowness in his direction. His face heated up with indignation.

"Then we have to go pay for it!"

She sighed as she finished off the apple, licking her lips in a very cattish way. "Oh, Link, calm down. Besides, I don't think you'll be let near that stall again." She grinned devilishly.

He massaged his face. "Just…is this the first time? Have you done this before?"

She gave him an innocent look, which immediately gave him his answer. "Why would you suspect me of something like that?"

"Midna…"

"Once," She allowed, but held up a hand to forestall his oncoming tirade. "It was only once, and I didn't do it on purpose. I thought those potion pots were set out for free, and I didn't know the potions weren't free until we had already left."

He took several breaths to calm himself. "If you didn't know they weren't free, I suppose I can let you go…Just don't _steal_ again, okay?"

She nodded and settled herself comfortably against his shoulder, resuming her chore of licking juice from her fingers. It made his cheeks heat up. "Deal. That parrot stood no chance against me, anyways."

"_Midna_!"

**

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**A/N: If you don't know what potions I'm talking about, think of that stall in front of the Forest Temple with the parrot (parakeet? I can't recall what it is--) as the shopkeeper. Recall it now?**


	9. Kids

**Twilit Days**

_A Zelda: Twilight Princess collection_

_Disclaimer: I don't own TP (except a copy of it), and I don't own Zelda._

**Chapter Nine: Kids**

* * *

'_A riddle wrapped up in an enigma – A puzzle; difficult to solve._'

* * *

It was howling outside. The wind keened a sharp wail and rain beat furiously at the stone of their hideaway.

Link rested at the very back of the cave, rock bleeding chills through his tunic and up his spine. A fire was going before him, and occasionally he would venture a hand from beneath the blanket to stir at the flames with a stick.

All was quiet, save for the racket of the storm outside and the popping, crackling of the fire. He yawned.

A yawn answered him back. Midna stirred against his side, using one of his arms to keep the blanket from slipping off her. He could hear her jaws cracking.

"How late is it?" She queried sleepily. He was glad she was so drowsy; if she had been alert she probably would have smacked him for 'cozying up to her'. As it was she was cozying up to _him_, and he couldn't bring himself to mind.

"Don't know," He responded, transfixed by the flames. They cast fascinating shadows along the curves of the stone beneath them, highlighting a pebble here, casting another in shadow there. It was beautiful. "I'll take first watch if you want some sleep."

She barely managed a shrug, curling up in the nook his arm made with his side. If he weren't so comfortable he would have squirmed. "S'fine. I can stay up all night. Twili don't need sleep."

He smiled indulgently at the boasting. "Of course you don't. But, see, I can't sleep with all that noise outside, so why don't I take first watch until it's settled down? I'll wake you up when it stops, promise."

He could _feel_ her eyes narrowing in on him; her helmet lay just barely within reach. "Are you treating me like a child? I _disdain_ children."

"That's too bad," He commented off-handedly. The blaze was so riveting…

She squirmed again, and this time he shifted away from her. Why did she keep doing that?

"Piss off," she murmured into the blanket. She managed a blearily stern gaze. He ignored it. "Go cuddle up to your _farm girl_ if you want kids."

He blanched. "I didn't say I wanted kids!" I…" He floundered, trying to find an appropriate comeback. When he couldn't find one quickly enough to suit her she huffed and pulled away, tugging the blanket with her.

"Hey…!"

"Find your own," She grumbled, settling herself on the other side of her helmet. Her glare was fully alert this time. "It's not my fault if your _wife_ didn't pack an extra for you."

He looked at her in confusion. What had he done? What had he _said_? He didn't understand. He was very much afraid he'd never understand _her_.

"Sorry," He grumbled, stirring the flames again. They weren't nearly as mesmerizing now. He wondered why.

**

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**A/N: (Looks up at writing.) Have no idea where this came from, but it works.**


	10. Live

**Twilit Days**

_A Zelda: Twilight Princess collection_

_Disclaimer: I don't own TP (except a copy of it), and I don't own Zelda._

**Chapter Ten: Live**

* * *

'_The bitter end –To the limit of one's efforts – to the last extremity._'

* * *

They were gone.

Midna watches as the shimmering black particles of her portal whisks them away, the expression on Link's face stapled to her eyelids, imprinted on her irises, burning in her heart, digging into her brain. She smiles, a sad, bitter but triumphant smile, and even as she faces the monstrosity before her, she knows she has won.

Her poor Hero, her poor farm boy; her poor wolf—she could not begrudge him the shock and betrayal he must be feeling now. After all, she would never have done something such as this at any other time in her life.

Her self-preservation has died in the wake of a far more crushing realization than when she had found herself an imp, than when she had realized there was no way for Link to conquer Ganondorf as he was now.

Perhaps she had been stupid not to realize it earlier, she reflects as the Fused Shadows swirl around her, as she prepares for the futile struggle she is about to incite. The monster is waiting for her, calm, assured of his victory as much as she is.

She loves him, her poor Hero, her poor farm boy, her poor wolf.

And she is going to die.

But that didn't matter. It astounds her that she finds nothing wrong with this sentiment, that if feels blood-curdling _right_ to her. She does not question it, she does not push it aside; she allows it to envelope her, because, although she knows she has not the strength to climb the mountain before her, she knows it doesn't matter if he is awaiting her on the other side or not.

She loves him.

And she is going to die.

But that didn't matter:

It didn't matter, because he would live.

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**A/N: The inspiration for this comes from a Twilight Princess music video I'll be posting a link to in my profile. I **_encourage_** you with all my heart to go watch it. It's beyond excellent.**


	11. Hunt

**Twilit Days**

_A Zelda: Twilight Princess collection_

_Disclaimer: I don't own TP (except a copy of it), and I don't own Zelda._

**Chapter Eleven: Hunt**

* * *

'_Call of the wild – the appeal of nature in the raw.'_

* * *

Moon-shadows danced cold and brilliant through the dappled leaves of trees swaying above, dyeing the forest floor a silver portrait. Darkness, solid and fluid, stole over the fallen leaves with an eerie whisper; a puff of breath, a low grumbling from deep within the strong chest of the creature.

Ears laid back, a paw stretched out into infinity across a small pool of white light, through, and into gloom once more. Anticipation played up to a key as a whiff or air, two, brought forth the unmistakable aroma of a rabbit.

Prey. Prey, and he, the hunter—the predator.

Panting, the nubile form of the wolf slunk through flora and shadow, slipping past fallen limbs and drifting leaves to come upon a small den. He could make out the quiet breathing of the prey slumbering within; a shallow pit or earth separating him from his meal.

Muscles tense, he waited a moment; several; and then, after a long expanse frozen in the cool moonlight sifting breezily through the treetops above he plunged his teeth into the ground, ripping and tearing with fang and claw. A shrieking squeal brought the rabbit awake with frightening clarity, and it struggled to escape as its home collapsed around it. It wriggled and worked its way up, up, plowing through clods of dirt with an inborn desperation. Nearing the rim of its den, claws grazing its fluffy back, it rears for safety in the underbrush nearby---

Too late. With a snap and a cry the rabbit lay dead and cooling in the wolf's jaws. A triumphant gleam came forth from golden eyes, and with nonchalance he stalked back towards his kingdom, the solitary hunter back with the kill.

Soon firelight spilled from between the oaks, and with excitement he bound forward, crashing through the bushes with scrambling paws. The imp that lay prostrate and grumbling by the flames leapt up with a squawk of surprise, and a snarl of anger.

"What was _that_?! Are you trying to kill me, you half-brained fleabag?! Just—"

Stopping short, she stared unabashedly at the prize clamped between slavering fangs. With pride he pranced forward and dropped it at her feet, powerful chest puffing out and tongue lolling with self-satisfaction; clearly expecting praise.

The imp bent at the knees and gingerly hauled the dead rabbit up between tentative fingers; a face pulled at the stench of death already rolling from the bloody fur. She gagged.

"Ew."

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**A/N: Gasp! Could it be true? Has she actually managed to **_**write**_** something! Impossible!**

**Yes, yes, I know. Believe me, I know. And I can't even begin to **_**describe**_** the joy I felt when out of the blue I was gripped with the need to write **_**something**_**. I literally started crying from relief. My writer's block is starting to fall away, and I don't think I've ever been this happy. Hopefully I can continue steady writing sometime soon. No promises, though…**


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